


White Noise

by nikkiRA



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, but you still bury your emotions and think that love is a weakness?, of a sort, that but with goro akechi, the summary makes it seem depressing but honestly it's just akechi repressing and being in love, you know when you're not a teenager and you don't want to commit murder as much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: He’s not eighteen; it’s a mantra at this point, something he repeats to himself every time something happens that would have sent him spiralling or running away. He is not eighteen, and love is not a curse. He is not eighteen, and friends are not a weakness.He still doesn’t quite believe it, but maybe if he repeats it enough times he will. Maybe he’ll be able to say I love you without it burning to ash on his tongue.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 233





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> And I've learned the older you get / You're either wild and dying / Or boring and blessed  
> \- white noise, glorious sons

He shows up 15 minutes late, but the looks the others give him makes it clear that they hadn’t even been sure if he’d show up at all, which is annoying. He knows he is not the best, necessarily, at showing interest in the dismal, joyless endeavors they so often partook in (Goro had not been to a ‘movie night’ in nearly a month), but this event, at least, is worth celebrating. After so many years of work and study, Haru was finally opening her cafe. It was nothing like  _ movie night.  _

Of course, Akira had also asked him to come. He hadn’t needed to, but he had, and Akira so rarely asked that Goro always listened when he did. It’s the only reason Goro even bothered showing up to at least  _ some  _ movie nights. 

“I am so happy you could make it, Akechi-kun!” Haru croons happily. Goro attempts to remember how to smile in a non threatening way; judging from the snort he hears from Akira, he has failed.

“It is a big occasion,” he says. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

A hand slips into his. Akira can always tell when he’s lying. 

It’s not that he doesn’t like Haru Okumura. If he were to like any of them, it would likely be her. But he cannot bring himself to feel about them in any way stronger than he might feel for a cat: they were just sort of there. They were just like all the rest of the things Akira had brought into the relationship, although most of them were, admittedly, on a shelf in the apartment. Goro really wished they could get rid of the giant glowing Skytree statue, or the fucking Phantom Thieves tapestry that hung  _ behind their bed,  _ and there were a few dark days when he also wished he could rid of the gaggle of idiots that followed Akira everywhere he went, but for the most part it was fine. It was something he put up with for the sake of -- 

Well. That was neither here nor there. 

And he does  _ try,  _ because he isn't eighteen anymore and his murderous impulses are slightly lessened and he's learned that talking about feelings isn't, perhaps, the worst thing, as long as he's safe while doing it. And sure, the only place he ever felt safe enough was at home with Akira, but it was still definitely progress. 

It’s just -- hard, sometimes. To convince himself that caring about other people is fine, actually, and won’t involve him coming home to see them on the floor with their brains blown out (the irony of this, that this is more or less what he had done to Akira, is not lost on him). Akira tells him that he’s trying, and that counts for something, but that feels a little bit like a cop-out. 

“Do you need any help?” Akira asks, because of course he does. Haru just smiles and shakes her head, to Goro’s relief. It’s not that he can’t handle being alone with everyone; he’s handled far more difficult interviews. Akira always tells him that if he stops thinking about it as an interview he might start to occasionally enjoy himself, but these interactions, the back and forth, the questions that Goro calls invasive and Akira calls  _ having friends,  _ keeping them all updated on school or work or whatever stupid fucking brand of running shoe that Ryuji was currently obsessed with -- how could he think of it as anything else?

There’s quite a few customers already, as the Okumura name still holds quite a bit of sway, despite everything. Haru had set aside a table for them, and they all crowd into the booth, Goro ending up squeezed between Akira and Futaba. She peers up at him intently, and he raises an eyebrow at her. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, a frown. Looks like somebody’s a Grumpy Goro today,” she says. He blanches. 

“I --”

An arm slips around his waist and Akira puts his pointy chin on his shoulder, digging it in slightly. “Definitely,” he says lightly. “Definitely a Grumpy Goro.”

“I’m going to kill you,” he says calmly. 

“Didn’t work last time,” Futaba says, head bent over her phone, which is a fair point, but also wow, rude. Akira laughs softly in his ear and the sound soothes him, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, and Goro leans into him slightly. The group chatters around him, and he listens to them with one ear, keeping the other open to the cafe around them. It’s a habit he can’t break, always aware of who is in the room, of all exits and points of entry, of any possible threat or any piece of information that could be exploited. His attention is always split; he couldn’t trust anyone to watch his back, so he did it for himself. It’s different with Akira, of course, but the only real place where Goro is able to close his eyes and stop listening is at home with him. 

Akira’s hand slips into his, and he grips the fingers a little too tightly. There’s just always so much  _ noise.  _

Haru brings them coffee, proudly brewed by her. The rest of them all coo and compliment her, telling Haru they can taste the difference, taste the love. Goro thinks it tastes like coffee, personally, but he tells her it’s clear she put a lot of effort and care into it. She beams happily at him, and he thinks that’s maybe a good enough start. 

Futaba starts to fiddle with his coat sleeve; he’s not sure what she’s doing, but it keeps her occupied and there’s probably no harm in it. Akira turns away from where he was talking to Makoto and says, “Good coffee, isn’t it?”

Goro just looks at him, because this seems suspiciously like small talk and they are far past that, which means Akira is planning something. His suspicion is confirmed when Akira grins sharply and says, “The barista at Leblanc is cuter, though, right?”

Goro sips his coffee. “The barista at Leblanc talks a little too much for my liking,” he says. 

Haru comes over again, sliding into the booth beside Ryuji and letting out a happy little sigh. “I didn’t expect to be this busy!” She says. “I haven’t been able to take a breath.” But she’s smiling as she says it, practically glowing. Goro has never seen anyone this incandescently happy, and he finds that the brightness of it wiggles it’s way into his chest and leaves him feeling almost… warm. 

He raises his cup to take a sip and realizes it’s empty; Haru takes notice of this and immediately stands. “Would you like another cup?”

“Don’t worry, you just sat down --”

“It’s no problem at all!” She says brightly. “I couldn’t be happier, knowing you drank the whole cup.” Within a few minutes she is back with another cup, placing it in front of him with another wide grin. He nods his thanks to her and adds his cream, taking another sip. It  _ is  _ quite good, truly. 

“I’ll be up all night, now,” he mutters. Akira hums. 

“I’m sure we can find something to do.”

Goro fixes him with an unamused look; Akira just smirks at him over his cup. 

Something pricks him in the wrist, and he wrenches his hand away, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“Hey!” Futaba exclaims. “You ruined it!” 

“What were you doing?”

“Trying to install a GPS tracker on your coat. Kidding!” She says, when he opens his mouth. “Your buttons were loose. I was trying to take them off.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Gives me something to do with my hands.” 

He frowns at her, but he puts his arm back on the table nonetheless. Futaba lets out her weird little laugh and gets back to work. 

He goes back to half listening to the chatter, eyes continuing to flick around the room. Eventually his two cups of coffee hit him and he nudges Akira to let him out of the booth, excusing himself to the bathroom. 

As he’s washing his hands the door opens and Akira steps in, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. Goro dries his hands and then turns to him. “What are you doing?”

Akira grabs his wrist, tugs on it lightly. “Kiss me,” he says. 

Goro frowns. “We’re in public,” he says. 

“We’re in the men’s room,” Akira counters back. Goro rolls his eyes, but he lets himself get tugged closer, lets Akira kiss him. He tastes like coffee. 

There’s a sound from outside and Goro moves away, smoothing his hair down because Akira doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. Akira does not bother looking apologetic about it, and Goro is just thankful that there hadn’t been enough time for the asshole to attach his mouth to Goro’s neck and leave a mark for all the world to see. They head back to the table together and he slides back into the booth, offering his arm back to Futaba. Makoto asks him a question, and then Ann asks another one, and he ends up getting dragged into the conversation; a few moments later Futaba lets out a triumphant yell and holds up the buttons from his sleeve. 

This is basically his life now, he reflects, pocketing the buttons to sew back on later. He is not precisely sure what to think of that, but he doesn’t  _ hate  _ it. Life is easier when you’re eighteen and hate everyone, but this, he has to admit, is far less lonely. If he had have looked forward and seen himself here, in his mid-twenties in a cafe with the  _ goddamn Phantom Thieves,  _ going home with Akira fucking Kurusu to the apartment they share -- he would have been horrified. He couldn’t have been honest when he was young. Would never have been able to see that maybe this future isn’t all bad. 

And hey, at least it’s  _ his.  _ At least he chose it for himself. 

* * *

Akira tugs him away from his work a little past midnight, tugging on his hair until he concedes and heads to bed. He watches as Goro changes into his sleep clothes, and just as he’s about to turn off the light he says, “Have you ever --”

He cuts off. Goro raises an eyebrow, but Akira doesn’t finish his thought until he’s turned the light off and gotten into bed. An arm wraps around his waist and then Akira says, voice soft and close, “Have you ever considered that maybe pretending to care about people is just how you care about people?”

He considers this, but the obvious issue is, “But I care about you.”

“That’s sweet and I will quote you on it, but just ignore that right now.”

“It’s not a very solid theory if you have to outright ignore evidence to prove it.”

“Sorry, Detective Akechi,” he says sardonically. “But I still think I’m right.”

“You always think you’re right,” Goro points out.

“I normally am,” Akira says, which is very annoying because he’s right. 

“Even if we do ignore blatantly contradictory evidence,” he says, slightly mockingly, “Doesn’t the fact that I am simply  _ pretending  _ disprove your theory? That I cannot do so of my own will?”

“But the fact that you even bother to pretend shows that you care what they think.”

“No it doesn’t,” he says, because he may not be eighteen anymore but that doesn’t mean he’s  _ fine.  _ “It means I care what  _ you  _ think.”

Akira moves closer, nuzzling his face into Goro’s neck. “If it makes it easier to think that way,” he says, obnoxiously, “then go ahead.”

Goro scowls, even though Akira won’t be able to see it in the dark. “You’re very annoying.”

“Hmm,” Akira says. “I love you.”

He’s not eighteen; it’s a mantra at this point, something he repeats to himself every time something happens that would have sent him spiralling or running away. He is not eighteen, and love is not a curse. He is not eighteen, and friends are not a weakness. 

He still doesn’t quite believe it, but maybe if he repeats it enough times he will. Maybe he’ll be able to say  _ I love you  _ without it burning to ash on his tongue. 

Haru’s coffee really  _ had  _ been quite good. 

He turns onto his side, facing Akira, tangling their legs together. He’s gotten good at this, at touching, at reaching out, at using physicality when his words fail him. Akira can read entire sentences in one simple touch, can glean the words that he finds so hard to say from the frantic way that Goro clings to him. Akira is the only weakness he lets himself have. 

It’s possible he’s not a weakness at all. It’s possible that one day Goro’s mantra will be that he is not twenty-five, and being human is not a weakness. He is not twenty-five, and it is not so terrible, being known. 

But not yet. Right now the words get stuck in his throat, but Akira rubs circles into his back and Goro is pretty sure he knows, at least. 

“Will you come to movie night this weekend?” Akira murmurs, half asleep. 

“Whose turn is it to choose?”

“I’m… not sure,” Akira says, which means it’s Ryuji’s. Goro sighs. 

“You owe me,” he says, because he doesn’t know how to say yes without any stipulations. He can’t help but wish the light was on so he could see Akira smile; he settles with just kissing him, feeling the way his lips curve upwards. Then he curves himself more around Akira, closing his eyes. 

Around him, the world is loud; he closes his eyes and doesn't listen. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @felixfraldaddy


End file.
